Flourishing Trees
by PocketTheremin
Summary: It hurt Willow when she found out her friends didn't feel the same way about her newfound magical skill. Their lack of true support hurt her more than they gave any thought to. It was to the point where she almost gave up on her potential talent. Then, there was someone who truly believed that she could be an adept witch. Someone she never would've expected she'd come to trust.


Willow huffed in frustration, as she picked up her pencil and threw it on the ground. She knew her magic wouldn't work without a clear mind, or one that was at least less of an emotional mess than her own, but she just couldn't figure out how to do that. The thought of failure was so much of a recurrence in her life that she couldn't even figure out how to relax. Not even her magic book—well, Amy's magic book that she was borrowing, since Giles seemed to have a severe lack of anything beginner friendly, sometimes she wondered if that was intentional—could provide her a good strategy for finding her calm. It all came down to meditation, and meditation meant being alone with her thoughts, of which she already had too many. Thoughts were especially bad now, after seeing how her friends reacted to her pencil levitation.

Xander was excited, and immediately started listing off a bunch of superheroes from comic books, asking if she'd be able to do anything like them one day. It would've been perfect, if she didn't know him so well. She saw his uncertainty and concern for her safety, even if he didn't voice his opinions aloud. He didn't need to, they had plenty of time to perfect their silent communication, even to the point of catching things they didn't want the other to know about. He may never admit it, but she saw that he was jealous. He didn't want to be left out of the fight, either. She thought that was funny, he had always been so much stronger than her.

Then, there was Buffy. She didn't even offer a 'wow, Will, that's pretty neat', not that she could blame her. She'd be pretty worried, too, if her friend started levitating sharp pencils all of the sudden. It still hurt, even though she knew they didn't mean for her to interpret their reactions the way she did. It just felt like they had no confidence in her, and that was bad, because confidence from others was a very good thing, since she didn't have any to offer herself.

Giles had the worst reaction. Like the others, he was concerned, of course, but he also seemed… angry, an emotion she had never seen the fatherly man display. It wasn't necessarily _at_ her, in fact, it seemed more directed at himself. Especially when he, somewhat forcefully, asked her where she had gotten the resources to learn such things. He seemed relieved when she told him it wasn't from him, more so when she told him that she had looked up some additional information on websites of dubious authenticity. She avoided being alone with him after that, not needing a lecture on how potentially dangerous it could be. She was still Research Girl after all, and made sure to learn as much information as possible before trying anything.

She didn't like to put thought into what their reactions would be if she actually knew how to do anything more advanced than floating small, near weightless objects.

She stared down at the pencil, trying to ignore the tears welling up in her eyes. She just wanted someone's full approval. Not her teachers, but someone she truly cared about. Her friends, Giles, her parents. Her tears started to fall. "Why can't I just do the things _I_ want to do? Why do I have to always listen to what _other_ people tell me to do? Why do I care so much about what _they_ think? It doesn't matter how much I try, they'll never actually bother to get to know me.

"Why did they even bother to keep me, if they were just gonna abandon me to a town full of monsters?"

She collapsed onto the bed, burying her tear streaked face into her pillow. It always came back to them, didn't it? Would she even care if her friends approved of her magic, if her parents had just taken some form of interest in her life—one that didn't revolve around good grades and following in their footsteps?

She laughed bitterly. "Maybe I should just quit magic, it's not like I'm any good at it anyways. I'm not strong enough for something like that. Especially not emotionally."

She sighed. She didn't want to, but she was scared. Scared of losing the few people who cared about her.

* * *

"Poor little tree, can't grow up all on it's own. But nobody wants to help." Drusilla smiled. "It'll be okay, little tree, Mommy's here."

Spike watched as his Sire ran her fingers across the leaves of the now dead plant he'd given her, before plucking them and letting them flutter to the ground. He often watched her like this, trying to understand her thought process. There wasn't much of a process going on in her head, though, was there? It was just a jumble of thoughts, connected by a thin string that he couldn't quite grasp properly. But, oh, how he tried.

"C'mon, love, get all your things. We're leaving."

She looked back at him with a smile, gracefully standing up and spinning her way into his arms. He smiled down at her, still enraptured by the hypnotizing flow of her movements. Not even the mob could rid her of that.

"I get to choose?" She tilted her head, seeming so innocent.

"Not yet, pet, but soon." He smiled viciously. "We're gonna catch us a slayer, and get you all nice and strong again."

She pouted. "But I don't want a slayer. I want a witch." She snaked her arms around his neck with a seductive smile. "Imagine it. The taste of strawberries on your tongue," She brought one hand to his face, brushing sharp fingernails across his lips. "dripping down your mouth," She trailed her hand down his chin, his neck, and his chest, before she was stopped by Spike's hand grabbing his wrist.

"Don't start something we can't finish. Now, c'mon love, pack up. Plenty of witches to eat on the Hellmouth." He didn't know why she wanted a witch. She'd eaten plenty, but none of them had helped regain her strength. Still, he'd get his Dru whatever she wanted, no matter how nonsensical her requests seemed to him.

Drusilla smiled, and danced over to her collection of dolls. "You'll grab Miss Edith for me, won't you, Spike? I don't like her right now. She's been telling lies."

"Of course, pet." He smiled, happy that he didn't have to do any further convincing. Maybe they'd even get lucky, and the mystical energies of the Hellmouth would help as well. He smirked. He couldn't wait to terrorize the innocent with his Sire, just like in the olden days. Well, better than the olden days. This time he wouldn't have to share her with Angelus.


End file.
